The Seven Thorns
by CruelEternity
Summary: Natalya can see ghosts. Alfred is so afraid of them, that he tries to deny their existence, even after they're threatening his life. Human AU. America/Belarus.


Alfred didn't have a problem with it in the beginning. Sometimes, when he got home, he'd hear her speaking to something that wasn't there. He never interrupted her during these times, nor did he confront her about them.

Truthfully, he had begun to think that she was a tad bit mad. He'd seen someone go through something very similar in his past. His own brother, as a matter of fact, talked to these little nonexistent fairytale creatures. Hers seemed to be less like mythical creatures and more like humans though, judging by the conversations he heard.

He could've dealt with madness. Oh goodness, he could've done more than dealt with madness if he knew what was to come. Madness was a blessing compared to things to come.

Little things went missing here and there. Some things were moved to a new location. All small things, though. Change left around, some keys, and every now and then, food that was left unattended for simply a moment.

"This has to stop, Nat." He came home one day to find all of the money he'd left on a shelf in the study had been moved to a counter in the kitchen.

The blonde girl didn't even bother lifting her head from the book she was absorbed in, "What are you talking about?" She'd been in the same spot all day. The book had caught her attention, and it was refusing to release it.

Alfred smiled softly and walked over to Natalya. He sat down next to her on the couch and swung an arm around her. "This game. It's cute, Nattie, adorable, but it gets to me when you move my crap around."

Now he had caught her attention. He pulled her from the book and back into his world, the real world. A breath puffed from her and she set her book down, "I don't move your things around, Alfred."

He raised an eyebrow, still smiling at her, "Oh? Well, if it wasn't you, then who was it?"

She looked at him and met his bright, blue eyes. "The spirits did," she answered.

He was taken aback for a moment. Now she was just being cruel, "Don't scare me like that, Nat! Seriously, it's not funny!" He pushed her playfully and laughed nervously.

"I know you've heard me talking to them. I am not trying to scare you. They are here. They move your things around because they find it funny, not because I do." Shrugging off his arm, she rose from the couch and gathered her book into her arms once more. "There are things you can't see, Al, but I see them."

Just as she was going to walk off, his hand snatched her wrist and pulled her back as gently as he could. As she fell into his lap, red crept up and into her cheeks.

To be honest, he half expected her to try to get away when he attempted to pull her closer. However, that didn't happen. Rather than fighting him, she relaxed into his arms and allowed herself to be at his mercy.

She laid her head down on his right shoulder and let her eyes close for a bit. Wrapped gently around her, Alfred kept her close to him. He couldn't help but grin wider each time he felt her take another breath in and let it out. This simple little act of being so close to her and knowing that she was breathing and living was rather amazing. It was more intimate than some of the sex they had.

It took him about half an hour to notice when her breathing slowed, signaling her falling into a sleep. His lips spread into a soft smile.

As carefully as he could possibly manage, he moved one of his arms down to her legs and stood up. The house creaked eerily as he walked up the steps into the dark hallway of the upstairs. No one had been up there all day.

Thankfully for him, the door to their bedroom was the one directly at the top. It was opened ever so slightly, which was unusual. He was sure he closed it when he got up this morning, and Natalya had already been downstairs.

He wanted to shrug it off easily, to just decide that sometime during the day, she had gone upstairs and forgot to shut their door. Yet, this eerie feeling hung around him about it. He shuddered and pushed his way into the room. Nothing else seemed out of place, thankfully.

Just as carefully as he had gotten up with her, he laid her into the bed.

It was as he was leaving the room to get some stuff downstairs that he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped out of shock for a moment before he began to laugh softly, "Shit! Did I wake you? I'm sorry, dear. I didn't me-"

He turned around to see that there was no one there. Nattie was over in the bed, fast asleep still. She wasn't even facing his direction.

Cautiously, he approached the bed, "H-heh. You got me Nattie. Come on, that's not funny…" When she didn't respond, he was forced to remember that she was a surprisingly deep sleeper once she was gone.

He took a deep breath and looked back at the door. _I was definitely imagining that hand, but… Nah, I can clean up in the morning. It's really freaking late._

Excuses rushed through his head as he began to climb into bed beside his beloved.

His eyes fluttered shut, but his heart raced with anticipation of some danger that wasn't to come. Ages seemed to pass before he could manage to calm his mind. The need to sleep suddenly seemed to overtake him and throw him into a dream world.

Darkness loomed overhead, and the dream world seemed to be different. It was to be a world of nightmares this night. It would become a world that was formed and shaped by fear.

Stars began to blink into view as the nightmare began to become clearer to Alfred. The light given to him by the stars revealed a large fear of his. A circle of graves became visible around him, and another circle around that one, and yet another. In fact, it seemed to go on forever.

The first immediate thought that came to his mind was _shit_.

The second thought was much more thought out. _No, it's okay. Dreams can be controlled._

But that was when the true nightmare began, one that would stretch beyond the bed where one rests and into the waking world.

It was as if some entity wanted to entirely deny that he had control over a dream. He couldn't stop himself from walking through the rows that the graves had created. Further and further into the graveyard he went.

It got old. The initial panic faded as the same thing repeated. Endless amounts of walking with nothing occurring. He took notice to more of the little things around him. The grass squished beneath him. The night was warm, much warmer than he would've assumed for a nightmare.

He took notes of these little things up until he reached the last grave that stood alone. There were no names, no dates, and nothing said in remembrance of it. It was an unmarked tombstone that indicated it was a grave. A rose sprouted from the dirt in front of it.

Before he could think, he bent down to grab it, still very much unable to control his own actions. Thoughts seemed to invade his mind. The rose was very pretty and soft. It was sweet and he wanted it. He wanted the rose.

He remembered when he gave a rose to Natalya, only to have it rejected. She didn't like roses, she liked sunflowers. It was selfish of him, but he wanted her to like roses instead. Roses were much more beautiful, much more like her.

It betrayed him not a moment later. A single thorn pricked his finger. Crimson liquid slowly peeked through the tiny hole. Then it began to drip. Not a few moments later it was pouring. A steady stream flowed out of his finger and he could feel the life being drained out of him.

Voices came suddenly, spinning around his head. It did a wonderful job of keeping him from figuring out where it was coming from.

"Yes, yes. Want the rose. It is sweet, it is beautiful, it is death, and you want the rose. There shall be seven. Yes, seven is a good number, a lucky number. The seventh rose shall prick and eternal sleep shall fall."

Alfred's head spun. Once bright and lively seeming eyes became dark and grave. They quickly looked where he bled from, where life left him.

"The first rose has tasted life. More will come and exchange the life they want for the death you want."

_No! _He wanted to scream out, but his body rejected the want. _I do not want death!_

"You wanted the rose, the rose is death, and you want death."

_How the fuck could I know that the rose was death! I don't want death!_

Laughter spun around him. He felt the blood slow and notice that his skin was dry. There was not a drop left. He fell to the ground and jumped up in bed with a loud scream

Natalya got up quickly as well, alarmed by the sudden screaming she heard. Alfred was already sitting up; his head was being held in his hands.

Her hand quickly went to his shoulder to try and calm him down, but all that did was make him jump again, afraid from earlier. She noticed the sigh of relief that he let out when he noticed that it was only her.

They talked for a while, about nothing in particular, only to calm him down. She brought it up several times, but he wouldn't reveal why he was so worried or panicked. He didn't want to worry her anymore, and truthfully, he wanted to pretend it didn't happen. If he could pretend that, then maybe he'd be alright.

Eventually, Natalya got tired once more. She wouldn't say it, but Alfred noticed it, just as he always noticed the smaller things about her.

"You should go to sleep. It's not even close to morning."

She stared at him for a while before she could bring herself to answer him, "Will you be alright?"

A soft chuckle pressed from his lips and he leaned in to kiss her, "Of course."

There was the faintest of smiles before she lay down to rest more. He smiled and turned his head toward the door for just a moment, feeling unsure about whether he would be alright.

"Alfred… It's sweet, but you know I don't like roses."

He quickly turned towards her again, his eyes wide open. In her hands was a single rose.

"W-where'd you get that?"

Without looking at him, she answered, "It was beside my pillow. You got it for me, right?" She brought it slowly to her nose and took a careful sniff of it.

He stared for a moment, unable to form any coherent thoughts, let alone words. Then he examined his fingers. He ignored the place where he bled in the nightmare on purpose, fear twisting his stomach into knots.

But when all the other fingers were clear, there was only one place left to look. There, on his right index finger, was a small cut. It was the same place as he had dreamt it had been.

He felt blood drain from his face. The room suddenly felt colder. Natalya noticed, but he assured her once again, he was fine. He simply felt ill. He'd be okay after some rest. As he lay back down, he repeated that over and over. _I'll be okay after some rest. _

After some time, without him even realizing it, it had become, _Please let me be okay after some rest._

* * *

Written for Ruby on tumblr (currently doitsuorgasm).

It was supposed to be one chapter but then I got ideas so it'll be seven probably.

I SWEAR I'M GONNA WORK ON LET ME LIVE WITHOUT IT NOW.


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